


Let Me Down Easy, Let Me Down Slow

by Bluejay141519



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blood, Getting Together, Hospitals, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Prompt Fill, more notes inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluejay141519/pseuds/Bluejay141519
Summary: If Jake could've just learned how to dress correctly, none of this would have happened. Not the coffee buying or the sweatshirt sharing or the late night cuddling. Certainly not the falling in love thing.Or the five times Jake is cold, and the one time Charlie is.





	Let Me Down Easy, Let Me Down Slow

**Author's Note:**

> more notes are at the end, they're sort of spoiler-ey 
> 
> No one dies in this I promise (sorry alex). 
> 
> Title is taken from ['Spirit Cold'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOkH2hxeoB8rel=%22nofollow%22) by Tall Heights.
> 
> Prompt: 'cold', for Jake/charlie

**1**.

“What are you doing?”

Jake startles, almost spilling his coffee. The glare he sends to Charlie would probably be more intimidating if he wasn’t sitting hunched over on a metal bench shivering into said cup of coffee.

“Drinking something warm, what does it look like?” The forward snaps back. Charlie smiles a little despite himself. Jake’s always been a little spit fire. He tries to avoid thinking about how he finds it stupidly endearing. 

“It _ looks like _you’re trying to freeze to death on a park bench outside of a crappy coffee shop.”

“Not everywhere has Dunkins, Charlie.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure that most places at least have buildings with heat. Like the hotel. Which is three blocks from here.”

“I was waiting for the guys,” he grumbles out finally, clutching the cup tighter. “I thought they’d have been out in like five minutes, but it’s been at least ten, and-”

“You’re this cold after ten minutes outside?!”

“Maybe?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re a hockey player, Jake.”

“I am fucking aware _ McAvoy _.” He stands from the bench and Charlie can see the shivers are not just contained in his hands, but wrack his entire frame. The way his teeth chatter only adds to his petulant tone.

“You’re not supposed to be hypothermic after ten minutes outside in winter.”

Jake sends him a look. “Ten minutes outside in the winter in _ Edmonton _.”

“Still.”

“It’s cold outside Cheeks.”

“No colder than Boston,” he snips, reaching out and tugging Jake into his side.

Debrusk squawks but lets him, sticking to his side as he walks back in the direction of their hotel. His hands are shaking so hard he almost drops his coffee trying to drink it. “It is not this cold in Boston. Not ever.”

Charlie decides not to point out that despite it being a balmy fifteen degrees fahrenheit, Boston is currently suffering under a nor'easter that’s winds are dropping the temp to subzero. _ He’d _at least checked the weather before they left for the road trip.

Judging by the lack of hat, gloves, and a respectable coat, Jake very obviously did not.

“Are you just cold blooded then?”

Jake grumbles something unintelligible and mean sounding. It’s muffled by the way he’s got his face pressed into Charlies coat, so he smiles anyway.

They walk back towards the hotel in silence, Jake stuck to his side and still shivering. They were gonna meet the guys for lunch somewhere, but given that they don’t have a car and Charlie’s pretty sure his phone would die instantly if he took it out to order an uber, they might as well go back to get some room service. 

The pair run into Bergy and Marchy in the lobby. Charlie panics a little thinking about how it must look with Jake pressed into his side, but Patrice takes one look at Jake and his face transforms into the patented _ ‘worried parent’ _look he’s gotten from being the appointed team mom. 

“You didn’t go out in that did you?!” He peels Jake off of Mac to fuss, thankfully saving the defenseman from any awkward split that he would’ve had to facilitate. Unfortunately that leaves him standing next to Brad, who’s grinning at him like he’s about to pull the prank of the century and Charlie just doesn’t know it yet.

“What?” he asks, wary. Marchy just smiles wider, all teeth and gleeful cheekiness. 

“Nothing Chuckie. Not a single thing.” 

Before he can ask again - or maybe get Patrice over to stop what is sure to become a matter of national security if he knows Brad - Bergy is grabbing him by the arm and shoving him towards the elevator with strict instructions to make sure he gets Jake to his room.

“Take care of him please,” the alternate orders, and before Charlie can say a word, Brad answers with “Oh I’m _ sure _he will.”, the same look on his face from before. Bergy smacks him in the arm and Marchy laughs as they both exit, shoulders brushing.

Huh.

“They’re so weird,” Jake says, making Charlie jump.

“No,” he corrects, hitting the button for the elevator. “Tuukka and Pasta are weird. They’re…” He struggles to find a word to substitute and Jake gives him a look. 

“Okay fine they’re weird, but by that standard like the whole team is weird.”

“Well duh, they’re hockey players.” The elevator dings, indicating it’s arrival. Jake hasn’t really stopped shivering, but the teeth rattling full body tremors are gone.

So there’s definitely not a reason to reach out and pull him back into his side, but his hand does just that, and Jake goes easily anyway.

“Right,” he agrees, hitting the button for their floor. He manages to hold his tongue for the time it takes the doors to close. “You know if I’d found you any later, we might’ve had to change your name.”

“_ Listen- _”

“And starting at left wing, we have Jake the human popsicle Debrusk!”

**2**. 

“I told you to take a sweatshirt.”

“It’s not supposed to be _ cold- _”

“I _ told you _.”

“-in a _ movie theater _!” 

“It is literally _ always _colder in a movie theater,” Charlie hisses, the lights dimming with the start of previews. Jake is looking at him still and he cannot deal with having all this pathetically hopeful gaze stuck to him.

God _ fucking _damn it.

“I hate you. I hate you, I hate you,_ I hate you _ Jake DeBrusk.” 

Jake just smiles at him while he pulls off his sweatshirt.

Asshole.

“Why _ thank you.” _ Jake grins at him again, shrugging on _ his _hoodie while they sit next to each other in the back of mostly empty movie theater that they’re in by themselves because everyone else conveniently bailed on them.

Again.

“You have the body heat of a dead cat,” he deadpans and stares resolutely at the screen to try and avoid having to deal with the image of Jake wearing his clothes. 

He’s not blushing.

He’s _ not _.

**3**.

It’s not like it’s A Thing, per say it’s just-

-fuck it okay, it’s a thing and it’s A Big Thing, and Charlie can’t get over how big a thing it really is.

It just sort of hits him, as Jakes walking into the locker room still wearing this sweatshirt that is only clearly Charlies to literally every single person who knows him. A large portion of which are already in the locker room, and not a single one of them say a word while DeBrusk waltzes across the floor and drops his bag at Charlies feet.

“Um.” His face must be in flames, brain temporarily short circuiting. Jake smirks and sits down next to him. “What are you doing?”

Jake gives him a side eye. “Getting dressed?”

Charlie stares at him. ‘This is very obvious.’ His brain supplies calmly. ‘This is _ very _obvious.’

Jake blinks over him. He still hasn’t made a move to start getting dressed.

“What?” 

Charlie gestures to the sweatshirt.

Jake just shrugs. 

“I was cold.” 

**4**.

They haven’t always been roommates on the road. In fact, Charlie normally rooms with Brandon. It sort of feels like ever since he’s realized his development of a crush, he ends up getting stuck with Jake. 

Just in case he was unsure of his feelings, it helps to have Jake squished up right next to him, all loud and obnoxiously endearing. That clears things up for him very fast.

He’s in way to fucking deep, it looks like. Seeing as he changes all his plans for the night with barely even a minute of Jakes whining, it’s clear he’s whipped. He hates it, and he hates that he sort of loves it.

They watch Netflix and order room service. Jake talks through four episodes of Cake Wars before he almost falls asleep in the middle of his sentence. Charlie does _ not _have the strength to kick Jake out of his bed and he will absolutely fall asleep next to him so he turns off the TV and pokes his roomie until he gets up and moves.

They move about the room in individual bedtime routines, but it isn’t until the lights are off and they’re both in bed with alarms set that either of them talk. And of course, it’s not Charlie who breaks the silence.

Jake shuffles around, sighs, and then get out of bed. His feet hit the ground in two simultaneous thumps, and then he’s walking towards Charlie and his heart is doing something that would rival Simone Biles gold medal performance.

Jake tugs on the edge of the sheets. “Budge up bitch it’s cuddle time.”

“So romantic,” he deadpans, but scoots over anyway. This isn’t weird at all. Bergy and Marchy do it all the time, and ironically enough he knows that Pasta gets to share a lot of Tuukka’s personal space, but that’s because they’re weird about each other and- well he’s not weird about Jake he’s just...in love with him.

Although he definitely _ not _in love with Jakes cold toes tucking themselves into his calves. 

“Jesus _ Christ- _“ Charlies voice does a really interesting squeaking thing at the end that he does not appreciate.

“What?” Jake asks innocently.

“Your feet are freezing.”

Jake just snuggles closer, digging his cold toes into Charlies calf.

“An astute observation there, Cheeks. Why did you think I wanted to cuddle?”

He feels his face heat up and is very glad that the lights are off so Jake can’t see his blush. 

So maybe he thought- maybe he thought Jake wanted to because he liked Charlie back.

Whatever. It was dumb.

Jake catches his silence though, and lifts his head from the pillow to look at him.

“Mac?”

“What?”

He pauses. The air feels heavy and awkward now, and Charlie wishes they didn’t do this, wishes he just made Jake sleep in his own bed. He wishes his own dumbass heart would stop catching feelings for every hockey boy with a loud laugh and soft hair.

“Did you think-“

“Shut _ up _Jake.” His voice is choked. He hates it.

“I-“

“Just go to sleep dude.” He rolls over, his back to Jake. It effectively dislodges the forwards arms, removing the element of closeness.

He closes his eyes and pretends that he doesn’t miss it.

It’s quiet for a while, and he can almost feel Jake mulling over the whole thing, still laying next to him like there’s still a reason for them to be in the same bed. Everything feels so tense. Then Jake shifts, and Charlie is sure he’s getting up, except he just scoots a little closer and tucks his still cold feet up against Mac’s legs.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

Charlie closes his eyes and tries not to cry.

  
**5**.

They don’t talk about it, and Charlie does his best not to hit full on pining. He’s a defenseman in the NHL, and a damn good one. He doesn’t _ pine _.

He just replays what basically amounts to a rejection over and over again in hopes of telling his heart to shut the fuck up and stop freaking out every time he sees Jake smile. Not pining.

It’s fine. It’s great, he’s- great. Jake hasn’t touched him since that night, and he has probably made every effort to not be alone with Charlie.

It hurts a lot more than he thought it would, but it makes sense. He tells himself that it’s not a big deal, that Jake is just dealing with it the best he knows how. Obviously Jake doesn’t like him back, why would he? Charlie’s self aware enough to know Jake can do a lot better. Plus, he’s probably straight. 

It’s fine. He’s just lost one of his best friends. Awesome. He’s fine.

So maybe he hasn’t been himself for the last couple of weeks, but he really doesn’t want to get into it with anyone, so he doesn’t tell Brandon, and he doesn’t tell Gryz. Which means when he sits one the plane, they don’t know that he needs a spot _ not _next to Jake. Jake who has made it obvious he doesn’t want to be around Charlie, so Charlie is doing his best not to be around Jake. 

Jake feels comfortable, Charlie can get over it faster. It works.

Until everyone has a seat, and of the few open ones there’s one next to Jake. He’s late getting on the plane. And he’s taken a little bit too long to pick a seat, which means he’s going to get noticed, and if he sits anywhere but next to Jake then the vets are going to notice and they’re going to try to micromanage. He is not having a heart to heart with his captain about his love life, so he sits next to Jake and puts his headphones on and hope that’s the end of it.

It’s not.

It’s a long flight, going out to the west coast, and it’s late, so Charlie falls asleep fast enough. He wakes up some time later, eyes sticky and neck protesting. The lights in the cabin are dim, and there’s some soft conversation happening in the back that he can only hear because his headphones have slipped off.

He can’t figure out what woke him, and is about to write it off as uncomfortable position when he feels a tremor rack through the arm pressed up against his own. 

Charlie turns to the left, careful to do so slowly. He didn’t think it was uncommon to have the armrest up, but the result of having no barrier between them means Jake is pressed up against him, head rest on his shoulder. It also means Charlie can feel the shivers going through his body.

At this point he feels like he should make Jake go see a doctor or something, because it’s really not that cold on the plane. He seems to be _ always _cold. 

Charlie isn’t about to fall asleep with a shivering mass of hockey player up against him though, so he maneuvers the blanket _ he _brought to be around Jake. He takes care to tuck it around Jakes shoulder and hopes that it works. 

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep again. All he knows is that he wakes up as the plane lands, and Jake is leaning against the window instead of him. He still has the blanket.

**+1**

Charlie is cold.

It’s such a strange sensation. Not being cold, that’s happened a lot of times, but _ this _cold- this cold is in his bones. It’s in his blood, inside his veins. This cold makes it hard to breath, keeping his chest tight and the air away from him. 

He realizes he’s gasping, and it surprises him that he can’t see his breath. He’s looking straight up, the arena lights bright and burning in his eyes. He doesn’t understand. It feels like the air is freezing inside him, should he not be able to see it when he exhales; little plooms of moisture visible like in the cool Boston mornings.

The ice has never felt as sinister as it does now, seeping a chill through his jersey that mixes with that inside him. He feels like he can never be warm again, what with how cold he feels now.

Zee is there, next to him. It’s sudden, like he blinked. He’s shaking Charlie, which doesn’t feel good, but then nothing really feels good right now. He figures it’s a concussion, so he doesn’t understand why Chara would be shaking him. The guy has been playing hockey longer than Charlies been alive, he knows what not to do with someone who’s concussed. 

“_ Stay awake _,” the Captain tells him and he finds himself dragging his eyes open again, not even realizing they’d closed. Chara is doing something with his arm, and it hurts, it hurts bad. It’s not far away like he’d expect it to be, it’s up close and jagged. It feels like someone is crushing his arm. He can’t move it - well actually he thought he couldn’t move at all, but once the pain hits he’s - he’s got to do something. 

His legs kick out and his other arm comes over to reach for it but it doesn’t get there. Another pair of gloves catch and it hold it down, and Charlie wants to cry. It hurts. It’s worse than any injury he’s ever had, and he doesn’t even remember what happened.

That’s probably bad. 

_ ‘This doesn’t feel like a concussion _ ’ he thinks, suddenly scared. He’s cold, but more like- he’s _ too _cold and he’s so, so tired. This feels worse than any head injury. This feels like being winded, unable to breath while colder than he’s ever been, but so confused and he can’t follow anything, doesn’t know what’s happening-

He’s being shaken again. It’s still Zee leaning over him, telling him, _ ordering _ him- “ _ Look at me, look me Charlie, come on kid stay awake- _”

He can’t. He- doesn’t. His eyes slide shut without any resistance on his part and he’s left in the dark, cold and alone and scared.

**…**

Waking up in a hospital is never fun. He can’t imagine it’s any fun for normal people either, but as a hockey player, waking up in a hospital and not knowing how he got there almost immediately means he won’t be playing any hockey. For a long time.

He’s exhausted, and knows instinctively that he’s so weak he probably couldn’t even lift his hand. As it is, it takes too much effort to open his eyes. It’s late. The lights are dim and the window only shows darkness outside. He has no idea of it’s been a few hours, or a few days.

There’s...a person. On him.

Well not really on him, on him, but like laying their head on his arm. The one he can mostly feel. Which, once he realizes he can feel that one, then he figures out that he can’t really feel the other one. 

Actually he can’t really feel anything. Must be some fantastic drugs then, although there is something like a dull ache in the arm that doesn’t have a person on it.

He’s cold still. This time at least, it feels more like a normal cold, the kind that means he wants at least three more blankets and a better shirt. 

Charlies knows he’s not about to be hoping out of bed any time soon, so he slowly turns his head to the side to look at the person.

Either his mind blanks out for a second, or he falls back asleep, but either way he’s blinking suddenly with shock. He knows that head of hair. 

Jake Debrusk is the person his hospital room. 

Jake Debrusk is the _ only person _in his hospital room.

Charlie McAvoy is in love with Jake Debrusk, and Jake Debrusk has been avoiding him because of it.

If his brain were a computer, it’d be throwing up several error windows before blue screening. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know where to begin to consider options for what to say. Jake has been avoiding him for weeks, and now suddenly he’s asleep at Charlies bedside after what must’ve been a pretty bad injury if he can’t even think straight. Or remember what happened.

He probably opens and closes his mouth at least ten times, and swallows hard another seven, and maybe falls in and out of consciousness a bunch. He’s so confused and so tired and when words slip through his lips they aren’t even intentional.

“Why are you holding my hand?” He asks weakly. It’s the only thing that seems to be able to make it through the thick fog clouding his mind. Jake hasn’t tried to touch him since they last roomed together. Charlies missed it way to much.

Jake jerks his head up and inhales sharply, the kind of shuddering gasp that only comes after crying. 

“Because you’re cold.” He whispers. 

The urge to laugh hysterically bubbles up in his chest, so _ definitely _the good drugs. He smiles and it feels weird on his face.

“First time for everything.” Even as he sounds out the words, Charlie knows he’s slurring. The smile he gets in return is small and weak, accompanied by eyes watering with unshed tears. 

Jake wipes at his eyes, but doesn’t let go. When Charlie squeezes, he squeezes back. 

“Yeah, asshole,” Jake looks down at the bed like he can’t bear to look Charlie in the eye any longer. “You stole my signature move, I’m supposed to be the one in the-” He cuts himself off, hurriedly pressing his free hand to his mouth.

Charlie feels something turn sour in his throat, but before he can try to formulate a response Jake is shifting in his seat, staring resolutely at the door until he looks more in control. He squeezes Charlies hand again. It takes longer than it should for Charlie to squeeze back.

“So I think, uh...when you wake up again we should probably talk.” 

“Bout what?” he mumbles. He can’t really think that far ahead right now. He just wants Jake to stay this close to him forever.

“About that,” Jake says with a wry smile. Charlie frowns. 

“Didn’t mean to say that.”

“I know, bud.”

“Tell me now?”

Jake’s smile turns sad. “I can’t, cheeks.” 

“Why not?” He whines, closing his eyes against the sudden tilt of the room. 

“Because you’re on drugs, Charlie.”

He smiles again, laughing a little. Yes, he is. “So?”

“_ So _,” Jake plays with his fingers, tapping his own against them. “You won’t remember what I say. And I really need you to remember what I say.”

“Stupid.” Charlie grumbles, and slides into sleep before he can hear Jake’s laugh in response.

**…**

He doesn’t remember a lot from the first night - and that was, apparently his first night. Later he had to wake up again, and there was a lot of questions and some moving and pushing and pulling and he hated every second of it. It was a lot of work and he might’ve been crying from the pain at some point.

Also they have to repeat that process, and every time they do Charlies a little more coherent, until one time he’s a _ lot _ more coherent, and there’s a _ lot _more pain.

They tell him a month. At least.

No one tells him what happened, but given the amount of care they take with his left arm and the sheer amount of padding around the inside of his elbow, he’s going to assume he got a skate to hit him just the wrong way. He panicked for a bit until he realizes that could feel every one of his fingers, and there was no numbness or anything like the specialist he saw that morning told him to watch for.

He squeezing a stress ball when Jake walks back in. His arm still hurts, but it’s manageable now with pain meds that don’t make him feel like he’s floating through space.

“I need you to tell me something,” Charlie says, and Jake freezes mid step.

“Charlie, I-”

“How long have I been here?”

He honestly thinks Jake might collapse to the floor with sheer relief. As it is he breathes out a swear and has to lean against the wall.

“About a day and a half,” he replies once he gets his breath back. 

Charlie frowns and stares at the stress ball in his hand until he can get his fingers to close around it. “Felt like longer,” he mumbles.

“They woke you up every like, two hours or something. I don’t know, they kicked me out after a bit,” Jake informs as he takes up residence in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair next to the bed.

Charlie hums. “Why, what did you think I was going to ask?”

All he gets for an answer is a heavy silence. He moves his gaze from his hand to his friends face, which holds an expression that Charlie could only describe as pure panic.

“Jake?” He asks, alarmed. Jake startles, looking up at him with dread now mixing into his expression. “Look, if this is about- like if this about something I did to...to make you uncomfortable I’m sorry, I don’t remember.” 

It’s definitely possible that he did something while coming off anesthesia, and more than plausible that he said something. He has a vague impression that Jake was there, but he doesn’t remember much more than that, only that he was happy. Drugs have always made him loose lipped, he knows when he woke up from his heart surgery that he waxed poetics about how much he loved Brando’s...everything. For like, twenty minutes. Plus, given how Jake’s been working very hard to not be around Charlie, he probably said something and now Jake’s going to tell him what, and in the same breath tell him they can’t be friends anymore.

“Do you hate me?” 

The words get blurted out so fast that Charlie has to blink a few times to let his brain catch up. When his brain informs him ‘_ yes, Jake did actually just ask that _’, he turns his most incredulous look onto his friend.

“_ What?” _

Jake won’t look at him. “I didn’t mean to start it like that. I just- like you have every right to do so, especially with what I’m gonna tell you, but I like, I didn’t think you’d want to hear it before, and now- after, after seeing you- I won’t. I can’t _ not _tell you.”

“I don’t hate you Jake, what the hell?” he responds, still not understanding what’s going on. There’s few things that could make him hate Jake. The fact that it’s been over a month and Charlie still wants to finish his sentence with _ ‘I’m in love with you _’, is telling. Getting over it isn’t working, and he’s going to have to find the courage and energy to tell Jake all of that.

“Okay then, um-”

“Why would you think that I would _ hate _you-”

“If you let me _ finish! _” 

Charlie snaps his jaw shut with a clack. Jake looks down at the floor and takes several deep breaths.

“This was a lot easier when you were unconscious,” he mumbles. Charlie sort of wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he makes sense, but this is the most emotional thing he’s ever heard Jake say so he’s going to try to let him get it all out. If Jake’s going to tell him they’re ending their friendship, then Mac wants him to get it over with as fast as possible anyway.

“I thought you might hate me - or at the very least be _ extremely _pissed at me - because you weren’t quiet as incoherent as I thought when we took you in.”

Charlie raises his eyebrows, suddenly racking his brain for anything from last game. 

The problem is his memory only gives him flash images of their game against the Panthers, and he knows that was at least four days ago. 

“I said something, and I- I don’t regret it, because it’s true, I just wish I could’ve said it earlier.”

“What the hell are you-”

“I thought you might hate me,” Jake runs over his interruption with nothing but a deep breath and some serious determination. “Because I told you that I love you.”

Charlie makes a punched out noise in the back of his throat. 

Jake is _ crying _.

“I thought that maybe you remembered, or half remembered because you- you looked right through me, Charlie and when I told you it was like you recognized me, just for a second. But if you were- if it was as bad as I thought, then I couldn’t let you go without you knowing.”

He doesn’t even make an attempt to hide his tears, just presses on hand to his face and sobs. It’s that motion that breaks through his brain, forcing words through his already open mouth.

“You don’t,” he says, and his voice doesn’t sound like his own. It sounds cold.

Jake looks up at him.

“What?”

“You don’t love me,” Charlie repeats. He feels numb. 

“Charlie-”

“You _ don’t _,” he snaps. “You just- this scared you, because you thought I was dying or some shit, and this is how you’re dealing with it.”

He expects Jake to be angry - fucking hell, he _ wants _Jake to be angry about it - but it’s the truth. Jake doesn’t love him. He made it clear that he doesn’t even want to.

Except instead, Jake looks at him with a heartbroken expression, which _ hurts _. It’s unfair. It’s infuriating. Jake isn’t supposed to be the hurt one in this. Jake’s the asshole who made Charlie fall in love with him then when he found out about it he but so much distance between them that they might as well have been playing on opposite teams. 

(The rational part of Charlie realizes that he’s being irrational; that he’s lashing out to keep himself from being hurt - to keep himself from _ hoping _.)

“No, Charlie, I know I- I know it doesn’t make sense. I know what you’re thinking-”

“You don’t know _ shit _,” he snaps.

“-I know that you think I’m lying to make myself feel better because of how I’ve been acting since that night.”

He flinches, just a little. At least Jake’s stopped crying, although he seems to have only done so to try to explain himself with this stupidly earnest look on his face. 

“I never thought about it, and I realize how stupid this is going to sound but I swear it’s the truth. I didn’t realize how much I liked you, I didn’t realize that it was different than how I felt about the rest of the boys until you like...made it an option too? When I realized that night - and then later, I distanced myself because I thought it would be easier for you. It wasn’t until, like, the third day when I realized that the reason I was so messed up wasn’t because of what you said, it was because of how it made me feel.”

“Jake, _ please _,” he whispers.

His hand gets scooped up into Jake’s two warm ones, and his breath catches. He stares at the point of contact and tries to remember how to breathe around the tightness in his throat.

“I swear to _ god _Charlie, this isn’t something I just made up. I’ve been thinking about it pretty much non stop. But I didn’t know how to talk to you, to tell you that what you said made me realize that I treated you differently, that I thought of you differently. That I wanted to be able to cuddle you on roadies and fall asleep on your shoulder on planes and mix my clothes in with yours at home and binge netflix and do- do all the things that would come with us.”

“Us?” Charlie whispers, jerking his gaze away from their hands and up towards Jake’s face.

“Well, yeah Mac,” Jake smiles. “You love me too?”

He fucking _ nods _ . He’s finding out his unrequited love isn’t so unrequited and he _ nods _.

“Then-” He twines his fingers in with Charlies and raises them up a little. “_ Us _.”

“Okay.” He nods again. “Yeah, we should- yes.” His hand squeezes automatically and Jake squeezes back.

“You aren’t...mad though?” Jake asks, and it feels like the tension is broken somehow. 

Charlie couldn’t even imagine being mad right now.

“Of course not - I mean like, I sorta wonder if this didn’t happen would you have told me, or…”

“I would’ve. I swear I would’ve, it just probably wouldn’t have been soon because I didn’t really have it figured out, but then you went down and it was like hey, get your shit together because he might be- uh, you know.”

“I don’t, actually,” he murmurs, still staring in awe at their hands. At Jake willingly touching him. At Jake wanting to _ keep _touching him. “I don’t know what happened. They told me I couldn’t watch the clip because they didn’t want me to throw up.”

Jake laughs, watery. “I don’t blame them. Our pads don’t cover this spot.” He gestures to the gauze around his arm. “You were already on the ice after a seriously illegal check. I thought you got another concussion, and then when the other guy tried to stand up he just stepped right on your arm.”

“Well that doesn’t seem so-”

“They had to stop the game in the middle of the second period.” Jake says flatly. “Not just because both the bench looked like they had seen a ghost, but because _ they couldn’t get the blood off the ice _.”

“Oh.” 

“You scared the shit out of Zee. I’ve never seen-” His face pales and he squeezes Charlie's hand. “The whole team, Mac. The whole team was so shaken we all thought- _ I _thought-”

“Hey,” He squeezes back, and keeps holding pressure until Jake focuses on him again. “I’m right here.”

“You almost weren’t,” Jake shoots back and Charlie feels guilty somehow. “If it wasn’t for Zee, they said you might not have made it to the hospital. The guys couldn’t even think of playing hockey, and then I had to walk back into the locker room with my hands covered in blood and I couldn’t even think, I just started having a panic attack, and I’m pretty sure everyone thought you just died.”

“I’m...sorry?”

He waves a hand around. “Shut up, it wasn’t your fault. I’m just saying, that I had to say it. I couldn’t _ not _.”

“Just in case,” Charlie murmurs.

Jake hums. “Also, that’s that only warning you’re going to get. The second the team hears about you being able to have visitors, get fucking ready because they’re going to descend and not even hearing about us finally getting together is going to get them to back off. You’re going to have at least fifteen professional hockey players expressing some seriously repressed mother hen instincts.”

He sighs. It’s going to be like Brando after the surgery, only much, much worse.

“Practice gets out in like fifteen minutes too.” Jake says, this time only to be the little shit that Charlie knows him to be. “I texted the group chat to force myself to have a deadline to talk to you, which worked but also they all responded, which is a little unnerving.”

  


Jake eyes him. “You should probably sleep before then.”

“Probably.” He agrees. Charlie flexes his hand where it rests in Jakes still. “Will you stay?”

Jake squeezes back and it fills Charlie with something too powerful for words.

“Of course.”

Charlie closes his eyes.

He isn’t cold anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: there is major injury/hospitalization in the end of this fic, and there is one spot where one character talks about blood. No character death and the injured character is given a good prognosis with no predicted long term affects. I try to make certain things pretty vague, but there is also POV of a character under the influence of pain killers.
> 
> Sincere apologies for how long this has taken to get out. 
> 
> Send me some [prompts!](https://thebluejayawe.tumblr.com/)


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